Chapter Twenty-Four
Rob
W hen I wake up, there’s a Picasso above my bed, a beautiful woman in my bed, and a pounding in my temples. The good kind.
Outside the door, the low, even sound of a vacuum purrs back and forth.
And a few feet from my bed, a silver-haired head pops up, squinting.
“Does she have to do that so early? ”
I don’t precisely remember the order of events last night, not once we got back home, got out of the fancy clothes, and got...going, anyway, but I dimly recall Scarlet joining the choreography at some point. Which would explain why he’s now waking up on my floor sporting nothing but his silk shorts and some morning wood.
“You’re the one who wanted a maid.” I flop onto my stomach, which coincidentally lands my arm snugly around Maren’s bare waist.
That’s more like it.
“Mmm.” She frowns, eyes closed, and shifts. “Too early.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Will gripes, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. “Do you have any Alka-Seltzer?”
I close my eyes and mumble into my pillow. “Ask Tuck.”
“Ask me what?”
The door opens and Tuck pads in, briefly glancing into the hall with a smile and a buenos dias , before drawing the door closed again.
“Well, speak of the damn devil,” I say, eyes still shut, and draw Maren just an inch or two closer to me. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Rosa’s vacuum woke me up,” I hear Tuck say. “Not that I really mind, of course. But once I was awake, I figured maybe other people were awake, and maybe hungry, so—”
“Will?” Maren pushes herself vertical, and my eyes fly open. She blinks, her hair tumbling everywhere, confusion puckering her forehead. “Why are you on the floor?”
“I don’t know,” Will says, sighing and flinging his forearm across his eyes. “Probably too exhausted after a long night of taking Rob’s CBT virginity to crawl back to my own abode. Relax,” he adds to me, “I was gentle.”
“Quit your bullshitting.” I flip him off. “No such thing occurred,” I say to Maren, who just blushes. Will pushes himself to stand, stretching and scratching under his arm, while Tuck’s brows draw together in confusion and he mouths cognitive behavior therapy?
And then the door bangs open. Again.
“Well, I’ll be, everyone,” I cry. “It’s LJ. Would you look at that. Lucky me. Gang’s all here. In my damn room. At nine in the godforsaken—”
“Just making sure Maren’s feeling all right,” LJ butts in. “Lot of champagne last night.” He nods at her. “All good?”
“Never better.” She smiles, sleepily, and notices the painting above the bed. “Is that an actual—”
“Later, later,” I say, giving up on any hopes of sleeping in any longer. “We have plenty of time.”
Tuck starts in on suggestions for food as Will goes ahead and riffles through my sock drawer and mutters about ibuprofen while LJ gives him shit for a lower pain tolerance and the very pretty, very naked woman next to me just plops her head on my shoulder and sighs.
I don’t know about happily ever after, but I sure as shit am happy right now.
And that’s a start.